A Very Margey Christmas
by walked-into-the-sky
Summary: Harry Potter knows that Professors Lupin and Snape have feelings for each other. In a misguided attempt at matchmaking, he blackmails them into visiting Privet Drive for Christmas dinner. Aunt Marge pays an unexpected visit. Chaos ensues. Slash.
1. Chapter One

So I'm sitting, rereading Prisoner of Azkaban and minding my own business, when this rather rube plot bunny bites me on the ass. I know, I have a bazillion works in progress going right now, but here's what you have to understand. I work best in pieces and while I'm focusing on more than one thing at once. So, here we go. SSRL, courtesy of a rather devious Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: If I owned, I'd be blonde, in my forties, rich beyond my wildest dreams, and British. As I am a brunette, not even twenty yet, suffering from the plague that is college debt, and American, I think it's safe to say I do NOT own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Slash. Cussing.

Pairings: SSRL, mentioned HPGW, RWHG.

Also, this is AU, being that Remus and Severus…died (insert author's miserable tears here) and in this story they are, in fact, alive. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she? AND Remus never got with Tonks. She…uh…she just was there and then she…died. Not that I have anything against her! I don't! I actually rather like her. But, for the purposes of this story, she didn't fall in love with Remus (totally don't blame her for doing that, btw) and she was just a character who was, you know, around. And stuff.

Chapter One: In Which Harry Potter Proves He Can Read People

Post war life was not at all what Harry Potter imagined it would be.

Quite the contrary, actually; his life before had been riddled with mystery, danger and, well, _purpose_. Not to say that he didn't see the point to living any more, oh no, Harry Potter loved being alive. But now, after Voldemort's fall and all of his heroics were…over and done with, so to speak, he felt that he lacked a goal. Becoming an Auror had even lost its flare as something he was working for, he knew the Ministry would certify him even if he failed every single one of the qualifying tests, he was the_ Boy Who Stopped the Dark Lord_ after all, and fixating on it the way he had Voldemort's defeat just didn't give him the rush he wanted.

No, Harry Potter needed a new goal, a new purpose. He needed to find something to work for. Preferably, something _difficult_.

Ron and Hermione didn't share his sentiments. They didn't miss the puzzles, the questions, and the near constant peril. They were content with sitting beside the fire in the loud, crowded, and welcoming Gryffindor Common Room doing homework, relaxing, enjoying each other's company, working to pass their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. _Living normal lives_, they called it. It was all rather ridiculous. Even Ginny, who had actually been understanding when he'd first confessed his growing need for _something important to do_, was growing tired of his constant scouring of the Daily Prophet, his stalking of Draco Malfoy (He'd had probable cause to believe that the Slytherin was up to something. Draco had been making multiple, suspicious visits to the Room of Requirement, something Harry had noticed in October while obsessively staring at the Marauder's Map, looking for something, _anything_, unusual. Only after Harry had actually followed the other boy into the room did he discover that Draco was dating a fifth year Slytherin girl named Astoria and wanted to keep his private life out from under the magnifying glass the rest of Hogwarts had pinned him under.) and his persistence in writing Kingsley Shacklebolt and asking if any known Death Eaters had slipped under the Ministry's radar and, if so, what was being done to catch them. She'd taken to setting fire to the Prophet before he could open it, writing to her _parents_ about his "questionable mental state", and just plain hexing him when he commented on how dull it had all become.

Really, the lack of support from his girlfriend and best friends was starting to grate horribly on Harry Potter's nerves. But if they weren't with him on this, then he'd just do it himself. He'd find _something_ to do, _something _that would help at least one person in this new, peaceful world.

He was _Harry Potter_ for Merlin's sake and when he set his mind to something, he'd bloody do it, with help or without it.

--

It happened two weeks before the Christmas holidays, on a Saturday.

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were standing in the entrance hall and Hermione was performing a clever little thawing charm on their wet, snow laden cloaks, pants, and boots. Hagrid had invited them down to his hut for tea that morning and, to Ron's unending horror, it had turned into an engagement planning session due to Hermione and Ginny's enthusiasm when Hagrid had mentioned that he was thinking about buying Madame Maxime a ring. Harry, unlike Ron, who hated simpering, romantic conversations, had found it all rather amusing and oddly sweet, as by the end of it, Hagrid was blushing furiously and had plans to bring Maxime on a lovely date that started in the Three Broomsticks and ended on the top of the Astronomy tower during the full moon, where he would get down on one knee and ask for her hand. He was very happy for Hagrid; the poor man had suffered enough in his life. He deserved a happy ending as much as the rest of them.

Several students were milling around, either drying themselves with the same charm that Hermione was using, or eating toast or crumpets they had taken from the Great Hall earlier and chatting with friends. Harry leaned back against the wall as Hermione aimed her wand at his feet and felt a curious, gentle warmth begin to spread from the tips of his frozen toes upward.

"Hello, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione."

Harry looked up to find a grinning Remus Lupin striding towards them across the hall.

After the war, Harry had been very worried about the position the last father figure he had would be in. Despite the fact that he was a war hero, Remus was still a werewolf and, as that was unlikely to change any time soon, he would still face the same prejudices and outright hatred that he had pre-war. However, Minerva McGonagall, the newly confirmed Headmistress of Hogwarts, had laid his fears to rest by asking Remus to take up his old mantle of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as her first act as head of the school. The werewolf had accepted without protest, to Harry's immense relief, and, four months into the job, had never looked healthier. Or happier, for that matter.

"Hello, Remus," they chorused in reply as the professor came to a stop just outside the puddle of slush Hermione's charm had created around them. He ran a quick eye over their damp exteriors and lifted an eyebrow.

"Why'd you go out in this?" he gestured to the large, fogged window behind them, which offered an excellent view of the snow covered grounds and the steadily falling flakes that were adding to the two feet that had fallen the day before. Ginny grinned.

"We were visiting Hagrid," she explained, sounding rather giddy, "He's going to propose to Maxime."

Harry, who had looked up from his now dry pants just in time, swore he saw something strange pass through Remus's eyes in the second before he smiled and replied, "That's wonderful. I will have to remember to congratulate him at dinner tonight." He blinked, staring hard that the professor, but there was nothing but warm contentment in those blue-gold eyes now. Whatever he had seen, whatever that moment of strange darkness had been, Remus had covered it well.

But that didn't mean Harry was about to forget about it.

"Where are you off to?" he asked quickly, as Ron was opening his mouth, undoubtedly to comment on the sickening sappiness of it all.

Remus smiled weakly and, Harry's heart leapt, there it was again. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing such a dark look in Remus's eyes before and yet there was something strangely familiar about it. Something wistful. Something sad. It was back for a fraction of a second before the werewolf covered it again, "I was on my way to see Severus. You know," he lowered his voice slightly, casting a quick glance around them at the chattering students, "the full moon's next week and all."

Snape, who had _somehow_ survived Nagini's brutal attack (Harry suspected that Fawkes had had a hand in it, though he had never been able to confirm it), had been McGonagall's second appointment as Headmistress, as Slughorn had decided that teaching in wartime had done away with any and all love he had had for the job and had retired. Harry had to admit he wasn't really all that upset about it, Snape had been surprisingly civil to him for the past four months. He'd even stopped taking ridiculous amounts of points from Gryffindor for ridiculous reasons. In some ways, though Harry would never admit it out loud out of principle, post-war Snape was actually a decent teacher.

"Oh," Harry continued to hold Remus's eyes. The professor, who Harry knew could read him like a book even without Legilimency, stared back mildly. There was an awkward pause before Ron, who loathed such pregnant silences, cleared his throat nervously.

"Er, Harry?" he said slowly, "We should get going…you know, the Charms essay?"

Remus broke the little staring contest and nodded to Ron, "Yes, I should be going as well. Severus does not like to be kept waiting." The sad look was back and this time Remus made no attempt to cover it. The wistful gaze was starting to seep into his voice. There had always been a definite heaviness to the way Remus talked about Snape, Harry had noticed it before but he had never thought much of it. He'd always assumed that Snape's shameless animosity was the cause, as Remus had tried from the moment he'd returned to Hogwarts to be polite and friendly to the surly Potions Master and had received nothing but dirty looks and snide comments in return. And yet now Harry got the feeling that he had been very wrong in making such an assumption, though he couldn't put his finger on why.

"Bye, Remus," Hermione said hurriedly as the werewolf turned away, concern evident on her features. Ginny, too, hadn't missed the droop in Remus's mood and even Ron was staring after him uncertainly. Remus glanced absently over his shoulder back at them and smiled in such a horribly forced way that Harry's stomach began to twist.

"Yes, see you all at dinner."

The four of them watched Remus as he cut through the packs of talking students in a straight line to the door to the dungeons. To eyes that didn't know him well, he would have appeared to be in a perfectly cheerful mood, but Harry, who liked to think that he and his father's last living best friend had gotten very close in the past five years, could see it in Remus's slightly stooped posture and the way his arms hung limply at his sides: Remus Lupin was obviously depressed. And Harry would be damned before he didn't find out why.

But just as he was making plans to try to weasel it out of his professor, Harry got his answer in a flurry of arms and legs and surly Potions Master.

--

It wasn't that Remus hated romance; it was just that he didn't like talking about it. And it wasn't because he was jaded, or bitter, or just didn't believe in it. It was the fact that he'd never have it himself and, if he was being brutally honest with himself (something that was very rare, to say the least) he was jealous of those who did.

And so when Ginny Weasley had mentioned that Hagrid, the half-giant, just-as-much-as-an-outcast-as-Remus-himself Rubeus Hagrid, was going to _propose_ and had a very real chance of getting _married_…well, to say it instantly destroyed his decent mood would be the understatement of the century. He'd tried to hide it from the four teenagers and he'd thought he was doing a good job of it, too, right up until Harry had started staring at him in a way that could only be described as suspicious.

_Of course_, he thought bitterly as he picked his way across the entrance hall, _Of course Harry would be able to read me as well as James. Of-sodding-course._

And then the horribly perceptive boy had had to go and ask where he was off to, which had reminded him that he would have to face Severus and_ soon_. And this, naturally, had only pushed him deeper into his momentary depression, as Severus hated him quite passionately and Remus…

Well, he certainly didn't hate Severus, he never had. Quite the contrary, he'd secretly always been _very _drawn to Severus, despite the other man's obvious animosity and, worse, _disdain_. Of course, the Potions Master was decidedly heterosexual and, as Harry had revealed seconds before destroying Voldemort, harbored feelings for Lily and that, as they say, was that. And dwelling on it as obsessively as he did wasn't going to help him any.

So Remus had cut the conversation off before it could make him feel any worse about himself and had left a concerned looking Hermione, Ginny and Ron, and a suspicious and probing Harry behind to make his miserable way to the dungeons.

The door was right in front of him now. Wonderful. Why did he have to walk so bloody fast when he wasn't paying attention and drowning in self pity? One would think such feelings would slow a person down. Grimacing, Remus reached for the handle.

It swung open before he could so much as touch it, making Remus step back hastily into what could only be a puddle created by one of those stupid thawing charms and suddenly the world was tilting and he could see the ceiling and Merlin, he was going to bloody fall on his arse in front of what had to be a large fraction of his students.

Powerful fingers wrapped around his left arm and stopped him about a quarter of the way through his descent to the floor. Remus found himself jerked unceremoniously back to his feet and then those horribly cold black eyes were staring at him. Severus's lips curled into a sneer.

"You should learn to watch where you walk, Lupin," he said mockingly and Remus's breath caught. There were less than six inches separating their faces and he couldn't remember a time he'd been this close to the other man. In fact, Remus was quite sure this was the closest they'd ever been. And, he realized with a violent lurch of his stomach, Severus was _still holding his arm_.

They stared at each other for a long moment as Remus struggled to find his voice around the distraction that was Severus's warm hand on him. The Potions Master stared back coolly and Remus was powerfully aware that every single student in the entrance hall was gawking at the two of them. He needed to make his mouth work. Now.

"I was just…" he began, sounding horribly hoarse. He paused to clear his throat, "Coming to see you," he continued, "to save you the trouble of coming to me."

Severus released his arm and his hand, to Remus's dismay, disappeared into the folds of his robes, "How _thoughtful_," he said sarcastically before drawing out a goblet that undoubtedly held wolfsbane and brandishing it towards Remus, "I made a cauldron full, as usual."

"Yes," Remus said and this time his voice betraying him by sounding breathless. He took the goblet shakily, "Thank you."

Severus grunted and turned away, sweeping back into the dungeons as quickly as he had appeared in them, leaving Remus standing there stupidly in the middle of the entrance hall, holding his goblet of wolfsbane and gawking after Severus like some sort of imbecile. It occurred to him after a long moment that he should probably leave or something, so he spun, intent on the staircase and caught Harry's eyes across the hall.

The boy was smiling in a rather disconcerting way.

It took every ounce of self control Remus had not to run when he fled.

--

A/N: Sooooo, what'd you guys think? Lemme know, please. By reviewing. Yeah.


	2. Chapter Two

Thanks to all who reviewed. You make my life.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Slash. Don't like? Get out.

So Harry might be slightly OOC in this story in that he's a Devious, Nasty, Conniving little boy (I like capitalizing those words. It adds emphasis to how sort of evil he's going to be). But, you know, it's required, in my opinion, for the art of matchmaking. Or rather, for matchmaking that involves Snape. So yeah, he's OOC.

Chapter Two: In Which Harry Potter Presents His Theory to His Friends and the Devious Plan is Born

Harry was fully aware that Remus Lupin was a homosexual.

He hadn't been explicitly told by the man, "I play for _our team_, Harry," or anything remotely similar, he had actually pieced the truth out of snippets of conversations he had overheard between the werewolf and people ranging from Sirius to Dumbledore to Mad Eye Moody. And it was only after he'd been absolutely sure that what he'd heard meant what he thought it did that he asked Remus himself about and, after assuring the flustered and embarrassed man that he didn't care about his orientation and he was just curious about the last remaining father figure he had, Remus had confirmed that he was, in fact, attracted strictly to men. Harry hadn't given the idea much thought after then, it was just another random fact a friend had confided in him, like Ron's Snape-Spider Head nightmare and Neville's tradition of giving his mother bubble gum wrappers every time he visited her. It was just something about Remus that made him _Remus._

As for Snape, though Harry had no actual proof that he had the same preferences as Remus, he knew for a fact that while Snape had loved his mother, there had been nothing even remotely sexual about those feelings. And, as far as Harry knew, and he liked to think he knew quite a lot about the surly Potions Master, considering he had, after all, seen the man's close-to-dying thoughts, Snape had never harbored an attraction, let alone actual feelings for any other woman since Lily.

And of course, now that he _was_ actually thinking about it, Harry realized he probably should have known all along. All the signs had been pointing to it since his third year, from Remus's ridiculous attempts at politeness towards the vicious, angry brick wall that had been Snape five years ago to Snape's continuing production of wolfsbane without the threat of Dumbledore's wrath hanging over his head nowadays. And now, at dinner the evening after what he considered the blatant display of irrevocable proof that the two of them had put on in the entrance hall that afternoon, Harry could see it as plain as day: the heated glances, the way they carefully avoided physical and even eye contact with the other, how obviously aware of each other they were.

Yes, Harry was sure he was absolutely right.

He set down his fork with a loud, attention drawing thump, ignoring the way it sprayed a small amount of juice from the piece of pork he had speared before the two professors had distracted him straight into Ron's eye.

Most of the Gryffindors just ignored him, as well as Ron's fevered cursing, and continued to eat and carry on their own personal conversations, as random outbursts from the young wizarding hero had been becoming more and more frequent in this terribly _boring_ time of peace. Hermione, Ginny, and Neville, however, glanced over, and Hermione set about dabbing at Ron's now red and watering eye with a damp napkin, rolling her eyes as she did so. Harry stared around at them all impressively when Ron's eye was clean enough for a properly expectant look, and grinned.

"So you all know that I've been looking for something to do," he began and Ginny snorted.

"Of course," she said rather bitterly, "You don't know how to bloody shut up about it."

"Well," Harry continued, ignoring his girlfriend but for the slight twitch he couldn't stop his eyebrow from giving, "I've found it."

To their credit, none of his four friends rolled their eyes or decided to just stop listening to yet another one of his tirades about _what the world needs _and other such nonsense. Although, Neville did begin to smile in a way that suggested he was already bored, which irked Harry to no end. He frowned.

"What is it?" Hermione asked encouragingly and he turned to her, smiling. She, at least, he could count on for support.

"Well," he said, "I have recently discovered that a close friend of ours fancies someone else we know," he paused for dramatic effect and looked around to find that now all four pairs of eyes looked keenly interested. Neville actually leaned forward.

"Who?" he asked rather eagerly for someone who wasn't known for gossiping, "Who fancies who?" Harry grinned.

"I have decided to play matchmaker for them," he continued, deliberately dodging Neville's question, "Since neither of them is the type to initiate a relationship themselves. Especially with the other."

"_Who?_" Neville and Ginny chorused, the latter sounding more than a little frustrated. Ron was looking bewildered, while Hermione looked dangerously skeptical. Harry made a point of ignoring both of them and grinned at Neville and Ginny.

"Well," he said with exaggerated intensity, "here's a hint. They are both older than us."

Neville blinked and Ginny glared, "That's no help at all," she snapped.

"Er…" Ron said.

"Harry," Hermione cut in, frowning, "Are you sure these two people have feelings for each other at all? I mean, you said it yourself; they aren't the types to initiate a relationship themselves, _especially with each other_. What if all you do is create an awkward situation for the two of them?"

Harry simply smiled pityingly at her, "Oh, trust me, they fancy each other. A _lot_."

"But—," she began to protest.

"Is it George and Angelina?" Neville asked suddenly and Harry and the others turned looks of pure disbelief on him. Never, in all the years they had known him, had he shown such remarkable perception.

"No," Harry said slowly and Neville's face scrunched up in thought again. Hermione, who seemed to have recovered from her shock first, turned back to frown at him.

"Harry, I don't know if this is such a good idea," she said pointedly, "You could really mess up their relationship if there's nothing really there between them."

"You don't even know _who_ it is yet," Ron snapped before Harry could so much as open his mouth in retaliation, "For all you know, Harry could be right. Don't just assume."

Hermione glared at him, picking up to stab the last piece of fork on her plate viciously. Ron flinched, "_Fine_," she hissed, "I won't _assume_ until Harry tells us _who_," she rounded on Harry, "So tell us, why don't you?"

Harry stared at her and then at Neville and Ginny, who were both still scowling in thought. Ron, it seemed, was the only one who was behind him in this now. And if he wanted to get the other's help, he would have to present this in just the right way.

"Well. They're…well, you see…"

That was not at all what he'd had in mind.

Ginny rolled her eyes at his spectacular lack of articulation.

"It's Remus," he blurted and Neville, who had absently picked up a piece of carrot in his brainstorming and popped it in his mouth, promptly chocked. Ginny and Hermione blinked, looking highly taken aback, while Ron, strangely enough, went beet red.

"Er, Harry," he said quietly, "Remus is, well, you know…_gay_."

Harry had told a grand total of two people about Remus's preference when he'd found out: Ron and Hermione. And that had been an accident, Hermione had been commenting on certain _looks _one Nymphadora Tonks had been shooting Remus's way back in their sixth year and Harry had set her straight. Sort of. But he'd never told another soul, as it obviously wasn't something Remus broadcasted and he was already feeling guilty enough about his first betrayal.

…He probably should have remembered these things before he'd started telling the four of them about his theories.

Neville, who had just managed to regain the use of his airway with the help of Ginny's slaps on the back, let out a very mouse-ish squeak of, "_What?_" and Ginny rolled her eyes _again_.

"Of course he's gay," she said, as though he'd been stupid to think otherwise at any point, "Any man _that_ perfect_ obviously_ has to be."

It took Harry a moment, but through his shock and horror at having yet again betrayed Remus's confidence, he realized there was an insult hidden between the words _gay_ and _perfect_ and _obviously_ in Ginny's comment.

"Hey!" he and Ron said in unison and Hermione placed a placating hand on Ron's arm, while Ginny simply grinned wickedly at Harry.

"Relax," Hermione said soothingly, "I wouldn't change either of you. And Ginny wouldn't either." The look on Ginny's face suggested that she begged to differ and Harry was feeling rather confrontational in the wake of her still less-than-supportive behavior, but Hermione continued hastily to avoid the coming argument, "I'm assuming the person Remus is interested in is a man, since _you_ were the one who confirmed his sexuality in the first place."

"Of course," Harry said moodily.

Neville coughed weakly and Ron, who had been glaring at Ginny, turned his head to stare at Harry so fast his neck cracked loudly. There was an awkward pause.

"_Who?_" all four of them chorused.

Harry took a deep breath and stared around at them all; wondering now if perhaps telling them all had been a mistake. But, as it was far too late now and refusing to confess who he was sure Remus was in love with would only make the situation he suddenly found himself in worse, he knew there was only one course of action. He adopted what he hoped was a dramatic, intense expression, leaned forward to ensure that the four of them would be the only ones who would hear, and whispered, "_Snape_."

For a long, terrifying moment, there was silence.

Then—

Ron's nose let loose a spectacular stream of pumpkin juice and he burst into tears of loud, raucous laughter, drawing the attention of not only their fellow Gryffindors, but the rest of the Great Hall, teachers included, as well. And Harry, who immediately began the futile effort of trying to get the red head to _shut the bloody hell up_, glanced up in time to see a rather nervous smile on Remus's face. Beside him, Snape was staring at him through narrowed, angry eyes.

Neville chocked on his second piece of carrot of the day and Ginny, who seemed remarkably unsurprised, got to her feet and actually _vaulted_ the table to set about giving him the Heimlich maneuver.

Hermione let out a squeal of, "OH MY GOD!" that was so loud, Harry actually saw Snape's eyebrow twitch across the distance of the hall and out of the corner of his eye.

Professor McGonagall, who was still acting as Head of Gryffindor house in her determination to continue teaching Transfiguration despite her promotion to Headmistress, came stalking down from the teacher's table then and, while she didn't look _angry_ necessarily, there was a vein going in her forehead that suggested she was _not_ amused.

"Is there a problem here?" she demanded when she came to a halt beside Harry, the only one on the left side of the table now that Ginny had moved to save Neville's life. He looked nervously at Hermione, who had her hands clapped over her mouth, to Ron, who was dabbing at the mixture of tears and pumpkin juice off his face and still chortling.

"No," he said slowly, chancing a quick glance up at McGonagall. She glared down at him severely.

"Keep it that way, Mr. Potter. You four are seventh years, I expect you to set the proper example for your younger classmates and—"

At that precise moment Ginny's effort's paid off and the carrot that had been cutting off Neville's airway was dislodged in a particularly powerful manner. The little orange chunk came flying out of the boy's mouth; it soared across the hall in what was almost slow motion, and landed with a remarkably loud _smack_ in the exact center of Gregory Goyle's forehead.

Instantly, three fourths of the Great Hall exploded into laughter and cheers. Ginny grinned around at them all and sank into a complicated sort of curtsey while Neville, rubbing his chest and sputtering slightly, sank forward into his mashed potatoes, leaving only about an inch of his scarlet forehead visible. The Slytherins simply glared at the two of them, though Harry, who was smiling guiltily and had just exchanged a helpless shrug with Remus, who wore an expression that mirrored his own, could have sworn he saw Malfoy's lips twitching upward. McGonagall let this carry on for all of two minutes before letting out three sharp _bangs_ from the end of her wand and glaring around in the dying giggles.

"Get back to your meals!" she ordered, sounding highly annoyed, before shooting Harry one last, nasty look that threatened detention if he disrupted dinner anymore that evening.

Ginny vaulted back over the table as McGonagall stalked away and sank back onto the bench next to him, "So," she said amiably as the buzz of conversation gradually refilled the hall, "Lupin and Snape, huh?"

"Don't be stupid," Ron said, sounding as though he was having a hard time holding back more gales of laughter, "Really, Remus fancying Snape. You had me going there, Harry. I really thought you were serious for a second."

"I am serious," Harry said flatly. Ron looked at him for a long moment, as though trying to perform Legilimency without his wand, before opening his mouth slightly in horror.

"_What?_"

"Of course," Hermione was staring at the two professors out of the corner of her eyes and there was a knowing smile growing on her lips, "_Of course_. It's so obvious now!"

"Yeah," Harry nodded eagerly. At least _someone_ agreed with his observations, "That's what I thought. I mean, _look _at them."

Neville and Ron were both mouthing wordlessly at him now. Ginny, however, looked impressed.

"Harry," she said seriously, "I never knew you were so perceptive."

He grinned.

"Alright, Harry," Hermione turned to him, clutching the edge of the table with her fingers and leaning forward eagerly, "Matchmaking. How are you going to do it? Do you need help?"

"Er…" the truth was, Harry hadn't given much thought about how he was going to get Remus and Snape together at all. He'd only gotten as far as the fact that the feelings actually existed and that matchmaking was obviously necessary before he got distracted by the prospect of telling his friends about his discovery. He frowned. How _was_ he going to do this, then? "Hadn't thought of that," he admitted. Hermione and Ginny's faces split into identical grins.

"We'll help," Ginny promised.

"Absolutely," Hermione added.

Neville sank back into his mashed potatoes and Ron gawked at the three of them.

"Nutters," he mumbled, "Complete _nutters_."

--

Two hours later Harry Potter was feeling rather pleased with himself.

Not only had his friends been supportive of his newest undertaking (though Ron still seemed to think he was utterly mad and Neville was convinced that he wouldn't be alive to see the other side of the Christmas holidays if Snape got wind of what he was planning), he had two new allies who happened to be very knowledgeable about all things romantic. He, Hermione and Ginny had dragged three chairs to an isolated corner of the Common Room the moment they had arrived back from dinner and had begun to plan what had been dubbed "Operation Moony Needs a Snivellus" in earnest.

The first thing they had decided on was the timing of the undertaking. When, he had asked, was the proper time to incite romance between two lonely war veterans? Ginny and Hermione had answered in unison, "_Christmas._"

At first he hadn't seen what was so romantic about the holiday; sure it was a time for family, but _romance_? He hadn't been sure of how a plump old man in a red suit and a bunch of reindeer would make one man jump into another's pants. Of course, then he'd remembered what had happened between himself and Cho Chang only three Christmases ago and how the mistletoe had brought them together in the deserted Room of Requirement. That had been the second thing they'd decided on: their weapon.

_Mistletoe_.

Now the only problem was _how_ to get the two of them under it at all, let alone make it absolutely necessary for them to kiss and thus see that they obviously belong together.

Remus was hardly stupid and would recognize what Harry was trying to do instantly. And Snape, while not exactly _aware_ that Harry knew his little secret, wouldn't be far behind on the uptake. And Harry was sure that, the second they understood it, they'd react, Remus by high tailing it out of wherever they were and Snape by hexing the living daylights out of him. They were each unbearably stubborn men and that would make things quite difficult and borderline dangerous.

Exactly how Harry liked it.

Numerous ideas had been presented ("What if we put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the floor beneath it and then just push them there?" and "We could trap them with Devil's Snare and put mistletoe over it.") but each and every one had been shot down courtesy of Hermione ("All they'd have to do is step out of their shoes, Ginny," and "Please, Harry, you've been wrapped in a Devil's Snare. Did the situation really make you want to kiss somebody?"). Harry was getting very frustrated very fast.

"Well then, what do you suggest, Hermione?" he snapped. Hermione, instead of getting annoyed, turned thoughtful.

"Well," she began, "I have read about something that may help us."

"Of course you have," Ginny and Harry grumbled in unison. Hermione ignored them.

"There's this special type of mistletoe. It has this magical property, sort of like a Permanent Sticking Charm only less extreme and if you get caught under it with somebody, you can't step out from under it without kissing the other person."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Really?" Harry asked eagerly, "D'you think we could get some?"

"I'm sure Neville could," Hermione said slowly, "I mean…Harry," she cut herself off, her eyes on the window above Harry's head; "an owl."

Harry blinked, then cursed.

"Damn, I forgot I was supposed to spend Christmas with the Dursleys!" he groaned as he got to his feet to let the owl in. Strangely enough, it was been the school bird he'd sent to his relatives and it dropped an envelope onto his lap. He looked down at the letter, feeling rather dejected. "I promised I'd go. You know, we're trying to do some family bonding and everything."

Hermione patted his arm, "We could always do it this week, you know," she said soothingly, "The holidays don't start until Saturday and…Harry?"

She sounded worried, but that didn't surprise Harry in the slightest. He was sure he looked slightly insane, grinning the way he was after being so miserable seconds before.

"Harry," Ginny leaned forward to get a good look at his face, "You alright?"

Harry waved the letter at the two girls, excitement bubbling in his chest, "My aunt knew Snape," he said breathlessly, "They _grew up together._ And Remus, they must have met at my parent's wedding or something, I know she was there! She was my mum's sister!"

Ginny stared at him uncertainly, while Hermione's expression shifted from worried to horrified.

"Harry, _no._"

"Why not?" he asked giddily, "Come on, I'm sure Aunt Petunia won't mind. And this way I can monitor them at all times and _make sure_ it happens."

"But," Hermione looked extremely flustered, "it's insane Harry, I mean, if you by some miracle get them to both agree to go to Privet Drive—"

Ginny's mouth fell open and Harry cut Hermione off, "_That_ won't be a problem, I know exactly how to get them both agree—"

"_Nevertheless_, can you imagine how dangerous that could be? I mean, what happens when Snape figures out what you're doing? He'll be furious!"

"Oh come on, I took _Voldemort_, I think I can handle Snape."

"Harry, this is totally different, Snape will _kill_ you!"

"But this is the only way!"

"It is _not_, you just want it to be!"

"Hermione—!"

"Shut up!" Ginny snarled, glaring daggers at both of them. Harry and Hermione fell silent, staring coldly at each other. Harry gritted his teeth; this was _his_ project and if Hermione thought she could control it, or _him_ for that matter, she had another thing coming. Ginny let out a heavy breath, "Now, Hermione, this _was_ Harry's idea—"

"Ha!"

"Ginny!"

"Let me finish!" Harry, grumbling, leaned grudgingly back in his chair and shot Hermione a dirty look, "If Harry can get them to agree to it, then I say let him do whatever he wants."

"But—," Hermione immediately began to protest, only to be cut off yet again by Ginny.

"But we won't help him," she finished flatly. Harry opened his mouth in horror. Where the hell had that come from, he'd thought Ginny had been on his side! She must have noticed the expression on his face because she added, "Hermione's right, you're being kind of stupid, so you've got to handle this all on your terms."

Harry glowered at them both. So much for allies, "Fine."

Ginny grinned, "Fine. It's settled then. Good luck, Harry."

Hermione's frown suggested that it was not at all settled and that she wanted to hash it out some more, so Harry, who'd rather begin phase one of the plan he already had forming in his head rather than argue longer, stood up, gave Ginny a quick peck on the lips and escaped to his dormitory.

When he burst moodily through the door, still rather put out by the two girl's desertion, he found Neville lying on his stomach on his bed with his Herbology book of the week propped up against one of the posts. The round faced boy looked up when he stalked in and asked, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Harry grumbled, ripping open the letter from Aunt Petunia and reading that she would pick him up from Kings Cross with Dudley at the start of the holidays and that if he needed to pick anything up in London they could do so. Then a thought occurred to him, "Neville."

"Hmm?"

"Is there a…a special type mistletoe that won't let you get out from under it until you kiss the person you're stuck under it with?" he asked slowly. Neville frowned thoughtfully.

"Well, yes. There are several types; some of them are stronger than others."

Harry smiled triumphantly, "Could you get some for me?"

Neville blanched, obviously realizing just what Harry wanted them for, but nodded, "Yes, I could."

"Right. Thanks. I need it for Christmas."

"I can do that…" the boy paused, looking nervous, "as long as you don't tell Snape where you got it from."

Harry laughed, "Of course not, Neville, of course not."

--

A/N: My God, this is long. This chapter sort of got away from me. And you guys should totally review. Like, totally.


	3. Chapter Three

Author's Notes: Ugh, I've had the worst luck ever with my computer. I had to reinstall Vista, along with every other program I had, and this, apparently, deleted all of my files. It was long, it was tedious, and it made me want to chuck my laptop out the window. Anyways, here's chapter three.

Warnings: Slash and swearing. And yes, I do openly and proudly use the word _bonkers_ to describe Harry Potter's mental state. This is supposed to be mildly comedic, after all.

Chapter Three: In Which Harry Potter Blackmails His Favorite and Least Favorite Teachers, Lupin and Snape, Respectively

Harry Potter liked to think he was persuasive.

"No."

But even he knew that he was being stupid when he made that claim.

"But you haven't even heard what I've got to say."

"But I already know that my answer will be no."

Harry, had he still been a child and thus highly immature, would have pouted in response to this, but instead he managed to keep his lower lip in check as he stared his determined professor down, "Can't you hear me out before shooting me down for _once_?"

Remus snorted and rolled his eyes, ignoring the way Harry scowled, and turned back to the pile of third year essays he was grading, "Harry, I have indulged you more times than I can count—," he began patronizingly as he reached to dip the tip of his ostrich quill in red ink , but Harry cut him off, peeved.

"Listen, Remus, I've tolerated your 'I'm so dangerous to everyone around me, I have to hole up every holiday and stay away from people so I don't accidently bite someone even though the full moon was a week ago and I'm being totally unreasonable' attitude for a long time."

Remus, who had begun to gawk half way through Harry's rather honest and remarkably detailed description of his behavior, snapped his mouth shut and dropped his gaze, "Harry—," he said, only to have Harry speak over him once again.

"_Remus_. All I'm asking is that you spend Christmas with me. I'm sure I can handle any mood swings you may or may not have."

A moment of silence followed this. Harry held his breath.

The werewolf lowered his quill and laced his fingers over the pile of parchment in front of him. He looked up at Harry calmly and for some reason, that he was quite sure had something to do with the old saying "the calm before the storm," the teen got a powerful sense of foreboding from his almost serene expression.

"Spend Christmas with you?" Remus echoed, smiling mildly. Harry's feeling of impending doom increased because, as well as this suddenly seemed to be going, it was simply too good to be true.

"Er…yes?" Harry replied, perhaps a little more awkwardly than he would have liked. Remus continued to smile, though there was this rather devious glint in his eyes that reminded him strongly of Snape when he was on the verge of giving out a detention. Or, Voldemort when he killed someone. _Or_, better yet, Ginny when she kicked Ron—

Well, where she kicked him where the sun don't shine, so to speak.

"That's funny," the professor said slowly, "because I distinctly remember being told that you were spending Christmas with the Dursleys."

Ah. That explained it. Harry fought the urge to smirk. Or kick something. Or both. Remus thought he was so _smart_, but he'd come prepared for this. Oh yes, the werewolf would be visiting Privet Drive, even if Harry had to drag him by his ankles up Aunt Petunia's perfectly manicured front walkway.

"Yes, I am," he replied cheerfully and, he could see it in the way the left eyebrow twitched, he'd caught Remus off guard with his open admission, "What's your point? You've met Aunt Petunia. And Sirius did mention that Uncle Vernon somehow got dragged to my parent's wedding."

"Yes but," Remus's eyes had grown rather round and Harry got the powerful impression that the man thought him completely unhinged. And perhaps he was, a little, but only because this whole 'world peace' thing was driving him utterly _bonkers_, "but that doesn't mean they want me in their _house_, Harry! And you can't just—!"

"I've already written Aunt Petunia," Harry cut him off, waving his hand carelessly and rolling his eyes a bit too dramatically, "She won't have a problem with it."

"_You wrote Petunia?_" Remus squeaked, openly looking at Harry as if he was mad. The Boy Who Stopped the Dark Lord and Was Now Bored nodded and grinned wickedly.

"So, you see, when she writes back and tells me she'd be delighted to have you, which she _will_," Remus twitched horribly then and Harry did an inner victory dance, "it will be positively _rude_ to decline the invitation, especially since I've already told her you have no other plans."

Remus opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and stared. Harry had gotten him there, of course, because everyone, even the new ickle firsties who really hadn't gotten to know the teachers all that well yet, knew that Remus J. Lupin did _not_ do rude. It was absolutely unheard of; the man prided himself on his impeccable manners and his undeniably charming manner. Never, in all his thirty eight years, had he _ever_—

"I'm still not so sure, Harry," Remus said slowly, avoiding eye contact in favor of staring at a crack in his desk that bore a remarkable resemblance to Luna's description of a knargle. Harry blinked.

Remus was more determined than originally thought.

Well, that only meant one thing.

"Remus, I didn't want to have to resort to this."

The werewolf's eyes snapped up and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of his desk chair.

It was time to bring out the big guns. Or, in this particular case, wands.

"If you don't come to Privet Drive for Christmas," Harry paused here, of course, for dramatic effect. Remus sucked in a harsh breath.

There was a moment's pause. They stared each other down, one with gleeful determination, the other with obvious uncertainty and growing fear. Harry smiled in what he hoped was an innocent way.

"Well, then I'll just have to tell Snape that you're in love with him."

Remus's mouth opened again. And _stayed _open. Harry gave him a moment, but it was clear he had absolutely no words to comeback at that with. He did another inner victory dance, this one with more flourish and less jerkiness.

"So we understand each other then?" Remus continued to gawk and Harry continued to break it down within the confines of his skull, "Lovely. See you in class tomorrow."

And, before Remus could protest, or recover, or even close his mouth, the Boy Who Made Matches practically skipped out of his office, shutting the door tightly behind him.

--

Professor Severus Snape was in a rather good mood that evening.

Actually, it would be more accurate to say that he'd had a good day, which had in turn lead to his good mood, as Severus Snape never had random good moods. It'd begun with a rather flattering letter from _Potions Monthly_, telling him that his essay on the different types of Shrinking Solutions and the adverse affects on certain body parts had been _absolutely brilliant, Professor Snape, no one has ever quite singled out the cause the way you have!_ He'd then gone to breakfast, where Lupin had been nowhere to be found, thus freeing Severus from the requirement of awkward and forced conversation and the omelets had been absolutely spectacular. Then, in his first hour class, a particularly insolent Gryffindor first year had melted three cauldrons in a way that could only be called intentional and he'd had the pleasure of giving him two months of detention for his troubles. But the cherry on the top of his wonderful day had been the fact that he hadn't had to deal with the Gryffindor seventh (or rather eighth, he still wasn't sure why Minerva had held back every single student a year. Some nonsense about the Carrows, but it wasn't as if they hadn't learned anything from the other teachers at the school, herself included) years and therefore hadn't been subjected to the sight of Harry Potter's disgustingly smug face.

Yes, it had been a wonderful day.

And, though the knock came to his door precisely when he'd been off to immerse himself in tea and a good book (contrary to popular belief, Severus did not torture people in his dungeon for pleasure on his nights off), it still didn't entirely ruin his decent state of mind. No, it wasn't until the door swung open at his grunt of, "Enter," that all good feelings evaporated, not unlike that Hufflepuff third year's pathetic attempt at an Invisibility Tonic.

The Boy Who Lived to Torment Severus Snape barged into his office, grinning this ridiculously _stupid_ grin and looking as if he'd—

Well, Severus wasn't entirely sure what would make Potter look _that_ insanely happy, though he had the distinct feeling he wouldn't want to know, even if the boy offered to tell him. Potter practically skipped across the space to his desk and proceeded to stand there in front of it, bouncing on the heels of his feet and practically _simpering_.

Farewell, good mood. You were nice while you lasted.

"What?" Severus snapped irritably and, though it had seemed impossible moments ago, the smile on Potter's face stretched so wide that it could only be painful at this point. The Potions Master stared at him with growing disbelief and paranoia; post-war Potter was moped around, he wandered the school looking for trouble, he was dull, bored, annoyed with the peace. He didn't _skip_ into the dungeons _grinning_ like a bloody _maniac_ and looking as if he'd just buggered Miss Weasley or something equally disturbing and awful.

Severus swallowed. That had _not_ been an image he wanted in his head.

"I have a proposition for you," Potter chirped. Had Severus been drinking his still steaming tea at that moment, he would have spit it out all over the boy's stupid, stupid face. However, disappointingly, he was not and therefore had to settle for a blank stare and perhaps the slightest quirk of an eyebrow.

Potter stared back for a moment before, to Severus's horror, snorting rather spectacularly, "Oh no," he gasped, "Not like that. Well, I mean—," he stopped, eyed the Potions Master rather oddly for a moment, and then continued, "I'm straight, Snape, sorry to burst your bubble."

Severus was quite sure he was having a rather nasty hallucination at this point. Because the real Potter wouldn't think for a second that he could accuse him of actually _wanting_ to bugger him and then say something like _sorry to burst your bubble_ when he revealed something that everyone had already been made privy to in that he was _straight_ without being hexed or punched or a little of both. And normally, if the boy_ had _actually gone insane enough to think that, Severus would have been on his feet and wringing his stupid, cocky little neck within seconds and as it was, he couldn't move at the moment, simply because he was in a state of complete and utter shock.

"Anyway," Potter shoved his hands in his pockets and appeared to turn sheepish, "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to join me at the Dursleys for Christmas dinner."

Wait.

What?

Christmas dinner?

Dursleys?

Potter?

_What?_

"_What?_"

Potter's irritating, I've-just-achieved-every-life-goal-I've-ever-had smirk was back. Severus couldn't remember the last time he had wanted to break someone's face this much. Perhaps it had been the last time he'd seen James Potter, though Sirius Black always did manage to stir feelings of intense violence in him.

"Oh, come on, Snape," the boy chirped in a rather disturbing, borderline mentally scarring way, "Everyone knows you're going to go hole up in Spinner's End for the holidays. And that's no fun. And Aunt Petunia would _love _to have you."

Now that was just a lie. Petunia _hated _him. And had often told him so when they were growing up, when she wasn't terrified he'd turn her into a warty, leaky toad. Which, truth be told, had been a very tempting idea.

"Don't be stupid, Potter," Severus hissed, trying to resist the urge to whip out his wand and turn _Potter_ into his fantasy toad, "Get out of my office. Now."

Potter smiled demurely, "Now, Snape, you really didn't think I'd give this up _that_ easily, did you?"

And then he reached into his robes and pulled out—

Severus's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Several nearby jars of things ranging from frog brains to weasel livers exploded. Potter looked entirely unconcerned as he waved the little bottle back and forth, back and forth, almost lazily.

"Remember this?"

That was a sick joke. This whole thing was a sick joke. What in the hell was Potter playing at?

Of course he remembered it. It bloody well was his, after all.

"Potter," Severus seethed, rising to his feet aggressively before he could stop himself. Potter lifted an eyebrow at him and slipped the memory filled bottle back into his robes.

"Oh no, Snape. You can't attack me, I'm your student," he pointed out and, much to Severus's horror, he was _right_. Any and all pardons he'd gotten from the Ministry would probably be lifted if he attacked a student. Especially if that student was Harry sodding Potter, "But if you want it _back_," he continued lightly and _of course_ he wanted them back, they were his _dying memories_ and how in the hell had he overlooked this? He'd just assumed Potter had had some form of respect and had _left them in Dumbledore's Pensive._

…he probably should have checked on that.

Bugger.

"If you want them back," Potter smiled lightly, "then I guess you'll just have to come to the Dursleys, won't you? After all, I'm sure you wouldn't want oh, I don't know, the entire Gryffindor Common Room to see them?"

Severus's fingers were twisting almost painfully on the right arm of his chair and he had this wistful fantasy that he hadn't hesitated earlier and it was indeed Potter's stupid neck. Unfortunately, the real Potter was waiting patiently for him to say something in response and, as it was, he couldn't make himself go for his wand, lest he should lose the fleeting feeling of _murdering Harry sodding Potter._

"You…" he grit out, "little…"

Potter grinned happily, "Excellent. I will see you at six o'clock on Christmas day then. And don't be late, Aunt Petunia hates that."

Then he skipped out.

_Skipped._

Severus's left eyebrow had a rather extreme spasm in response to that.

--

So, I know, maybe both of them gave in too readily. But, well, Harry is threatening to reveal rather personal things about them. And they can't exactly attack him or hex him or oblivate them because he _is_ the savior of the wizarding world. So, that's my excuse. Please, please review. Kthnks.


	4. Chapter Four

Thanks for all the reviews! Love you guys, for realz!

Disclaimer: I don't own. So don't sue me. Thanks.

Chapter Four: In Which Harry Potter Receives Some Good News and Some Absolutely Dreadful News

"So," Hermione said, lowering herself into the arm chair next to Harry's and lifting an eyebrow, "How'd your plans to blackmail Remus and Snape work out?"

Harry grinned evilly at her, "Brilliantly, my dear Hermione, absolutely brilliantly."

A look of mild surprise appeared on her face, "Really? I'd of thought you'd bugger it up," she brushed some imaginary crumbs off of her skirt and eyed him speculatively.

He frowned, "Really, your lack of faith in me is insulting."

Ginny appeared then and, instead of sitting on the loveseat beside Harry, as he expected her to (because this was what she always did, being a proper young lady and all), she shoved his Charms essay out of the way and perched herself on his left knee.

"Well?" she asked Hermione as she wound her fingers into Harry's hair. He blinked and looked up at her, feeling rather bewildered as her free hand began to play with the collar on his shirt. Hermione smiled weakly and reached into her robes.

"You win," she said evenly and handed Ginny what appeared to be a large bag of money.

Harry stared first at the bag, then at his best friend, and then at his girlfriend, who was grinning smugly and had begun to massage his scalp.

"You were taking bets on whether I succeeded or not?"

Ginny started toying with the top buttons of his shirt.

"Well, Harry," she said directly into his ear canal, "Hermione seemed to think you'd say something that would either A) make Remus invoke the _I'm the last parental figure in your life and you'll do as I say _card or B) push Snape into committing murder. Or worse, you'd trip on your way to one of their offices and get your head stuck in a suit of armor's waist line."

Harry frowned at Hermione again, "I'm hurt."

She shrugged, "Ginny only bet against me because she thinks you've had a psychotic break and that your behavior would frighten Remus and disturb Snape."

Ginny was petting his earlobe now. It felt rather good. But still, he was annoyed, so he dislodged her hand and scowled at her. She lifted an eyebrow, "I was right, wasn't I?"

Harry couldn't really argue with that, so when she swopped into to kiss him, he didn't protest.

--

Harry was making him paranoid. Because that is the only possible reason for why, when Severus entered the Staff Room that Thursday evening scowling dangerously and shooting murderous looks at anything that had the misfortune of moving, he spit out the tea he had been drinking so serenely moments before all over the pile of homework he'd been grading.

Minerva, who had been sitting across from him at the round table in the center of the room, fixed him in a look of deep concern while, flushing and fumbling and trying to avoid Severus's disdainful glare, he tugged out his wand and performed a quick cleansing charm, "Are you alright, Remus?" she asked, "You've been acting oddly all evening."

_Of course_ he was acting oddly. The son (and godson) of his late, lunatic best friend (and even more insane other best friend) knew his deepest, darkest secret and was currently holding it over his head and demanding that he attend a holiday dinner that, in nine scenarios out of ten, would end in either something (most likely food) exploding (in a very fiery and spectacular—or horrifying, depending how you looked at it—way) or someone crying (most likely himself, in a corner, whilst hiding from Petunia's rage. Which would undoubtedly occur, when the psychopath that had possessed Harry Potter's body began his evil, evil reign of terror over number four, Privet Drive). Or both. He was leaning towards both. He smiled apologetically at Minerva.

"I'm fine," he said, in what he hoped was a tired, sympathy-inducing way, "wonderful, really. Just a bit tired."

Funny. That lie had sounded remarkably similar to the ones he had often had to tell due to the evil, evil acts James and Sirius had often committed in and around classrooms. Minerva seemed to sense it as well, probably because more often than not he had been lying to her back in the good old days, because she lifted an eyebrow. Remus figured his face took on a pleading look or something, though, because she didn't question him further and began to gather up her belongings.

"Well, perhaps you should turn in soon," she suggested, peering at him severely over her spectacles, "Really, Remus, you take too much on. You deserve some relaxation."

Severus made a noise from the armchair that he'd chosen to sit in, the position of which allowed the flickering fire to cast imposing and dark shadows of him over the walls, a noise that sounded like a snort that had been covered rather badly with a fake cough. Minerva shot him a dark look, which he returned with a blank one of his own, before she gathered her books in her arms and turned back to Remus.

"Have a good night," she said and, to his complete and utter horror, swept from the room.

Now, it wasn't as if he hadn't been alone with Severus before. He'd been alone with him loads of times, actually, due to the Wolfsbane, as well as at odd hours in the room they were currently occupying. But now, knowing that _Harry_, who—and he thought this with the greatest amount of affection—was just as ignorant to the workings of Remus's mind as his father had been, had figured out his feelings, there was this paranoid, insistent little voice in the back of his head that kept suggesting: _perhaps Severus knows too._

And that would not be good, under any circumstances. Because Severus was quite obviously straight and in love with Lily. Stupid Lily.

No, he didn't mean that. Lily had been lovely.

Which was the problem.

Bugger. He must have finally hit rock bottom, thinking nasty, jealous thoughts about one of his dead best friends. He needed help. Or perhaps some alcohol or—or _something_ mind-altering, at the very least.

Severus, who had pulled out a copy of the _Evening Prophet_ and had buried his nose in it, shifted the paper loudly.

Remus sighed. His life had really gone to the dogs. _Ugh._

"Stupid Sirius."

"What?"

Remus blinked and it took him a moment to realize he'd muttered his vicious thoughts aloud. Mortified, he turned to find Severus staring at him with something akin to annoyance, but appeared to be mixed with dread. He paused, swallowing back his hasty explanations under the odd look, and stared.

Severus returned his gaze for a long moment before speaking.

"Have you noticed anything—bizarre about Potter's behavior lately?" he asked slowly and, if the grimace on his face was any indication, with a rather grotesque aftertaste.

Absolutely. "Perhaps a bit." The boy was completely mad, inviting him to Christmas dinner at the Dursley's. What the bloody hell? "I think the peace may be getting to him. He doesn't like a dull life. He's like his father in that way."

Remus regretted the mention of James seconds after he said it. Severus's face contorted unpleasantly and he turned back to the fire.

"Well," he said nastily, staring fixedly in the direction opposite from where Remus was sitting, "If _you_ see no cause for concern, being his substitute for a father and all," for some reason, the idea of being a parental figure to Harry did not sound at all pleasant when Severus was saying it, "then I suppose we should all just leave it then."

"W-well—," Remus choked, suddenly feeling completely inadequate and worse, pathetic, "I don't know about that—"

"Have an absolutely lovely evening, Lupin," Severus said sarcastically, speaking over him as he stood abruptly. Remus blinked and leaned back unconsciously as the Potions Master swept passed him to reach the door.

He slammed it behind him.

Remus turned back to the table and put his head in his hands.

--

"Harry," Ginny said as he attacked her neck, her tone suggesting that he should stop.

He grumbled against her skin, trying and failing to tickle her, before drawing backwards into a kneeling position at her feet. She straightened herself on his mattress and jerked her head in the direction of the window.

"Owl," she reiterated, looking just as annoyed as he felt at being interrupted mid-snog session. Harry turned to offer a death glare to the insolent beast and recognized it as the owl he'd sent to Privet Drive.

Snogging instantly forgotten, he lurched to his feet, literally squealing, "Aunt Petunia's reply!" Behind him, Ginny rolled her eyes audibly, but he ignored her and her bitterness at being ditched for a bird, throwing the latch and letting said bird into the dormitory. It fluttered a bit, and squawked so loudly it nearly destroyed Harry's ear drums, but flew away seconds after he'd freed the letter from its leg, demanding none of the treats he'd been seconds away from summoning for it.

He stared after it a moment, rubbing his abused left ear, which had been closest to the beak, before shrugging and turning to the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I suppose, given that they helped save the world and all, that Professors Lupin and Snape should be allowed to share Christmas dinner with us. But Vernon and I would like to make it perfectly clear that they are to stay ONLY FOR DINNER and that the moment it ends, they are to GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE. _

_Other than that, the plans sound fine. We will see you at King's Cross next week. Have a good end of term._

_Yours,_

_Aunt Petunia_

Harry grinned. Ginny looked a mixture of surprised and impressed.

"Out of curiosity," she said, as he moved in again towards her neck and found his progress impeded by a hand on his forehead, "what exactly did you say to her to make her agree to _this_?"

Harry looked up at her forlornly.

"That, Ginny, is something I swore I'd take to my grave."

He then attacked her neck again, ignoring the quizzical look on her face.

--

Two hours later and thoroughly snogged, Harry lay on his back on his bed, feeling rightly pleased with himself. Operation Moony Needs a Snivellus was in full swing, despite his less-than-helpful posse (yes, he did refer to his friends as his posse, though he would never tell them that to their faces), he'd just had the best make out session of his _life_ and Neville had just entered the dormitory looking dejected—

Wait.

One of those things did not belong.

"Neville?" he asked, sitting up to get a proper view of Neville's fallen face, "Is everything alright?"

"I can't get the mistletoe until Christmas Day."

For a moment, the Boy Who Concocted Brilliant Plans could not, for the life of him, remember what Neville was talking about. Then—

_Oh._

"Bugger."

"I'm sorry," the other boy said quietly, wandering over to his bed, "I know I said I'd be able to get it for you quickly, but I—"

"No, it's fine," Harry cut him off, his wheels turning quickly, trying to find a way around this new and troubling development, "If you get it on Christmas Day you can just—just owl me. And I'll just—occupy Snape and Remus till then."

Neville shot him a look of pure horror.

"Occupy Snape?" he echoed weakly.

Harry set his jaw.

"Yeah," he said firmly, trying valiantly to ignore the feeling of impending doom that had taken up residence in his stomach, "I'm going to occupy Snape."

--

So, like, I'm not sure this is up to par with other chapters. I just sort of wrote it and decided that this was what needed to happen and, you know, maybe it's not all that humorous (or AS humorous as the other parts) but like, it's necessary. And for that I apologize, because I get the feeling that you're going to be disappointed. Please, please don't hate me for it. Also, review, because it inspires other chapters to be written and thus faster updates.


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